At 07:28 PM 6/5/99 +0200, Erlend Hammer wrote:
one time I was eating some extremely spicy tacos when suddenly I choked on some meat and then it went up that secret passage between the throat and the nose so that I had found myself with very, very hot Mexican food coming out of my nose. That was not pleasant, not at all.
I just have to say that this happened to me. And, God (and stoo and ummm some other people) as my witness, the night before Erland shared his story I told mine. THE CHANCES?? I've been in a stupor ever since I read about your taco misfortune Erland. Except mine was a burrito instead of a taco. I was laughing at something and I choked it the wrong way. As of right now there is no Monday poem. So I am going to sneak off with the parrot, give him a bath, and arrange his feathers just how I want to and send him on his way again. I hope I'm allowed to do that. it's a little bit long but I can't see it not holding anyone's interest. (I'm really really really hoping that I didn't steal the parrot from someone else today. Sorry if I did) here it is: I steal pencils on my way down here tonight I stole a package of pencils. at the time, I didnt even notice that I stole them but when I got here, the pencils were right there in my hand I stole them, not because I wanted to but because I must. pencils have their own kind of magic powers in them and they have always been too compelling for me to resist some people say I steal them because Im a kleptomaniac that would be people like my therapist and the dear lady who orders all the office supplies where I work poor Donna, just like the others, she does not understand my motives are much less sinister than she imagines I steal the pencils to help release the words that they contain every pencil ever made contains hundreds or thousands of words and those words deserve their freedom,the freedom only paper can bring I steal pencils because they contain the words of every poem I will ever write and to rescue them from becoming quadratic equations or even more disgusting poorly spelled graffiti on yet another ten coats of paint thick truckstop bathroom wall tales of the worlds best blow job that never really exists and God knows that we have too many truckstop bathroom walls and too many imaginary blow jobs I like the kind of pencils that you find in the library short, with no eraser, and lead so dark it can be read from the other side of the paper with little effort the kind of pencil that makes a permanent mark on the margins of the page when you are trying to rewrite a poem that was started three years ago but set aside until the right pencil came along to release the final version that is until yet another pencil crosses out the last four words and you banish the page for another six months when I find the a stub of a pencil, I get excited because now I can release one or two of the poems that otherwise would never have seen a scrap of paper but instead would have ended up as someones phone number thrown away or washed in the pocket of a pair of jeans just causing accusations of lying or playing head games mechanical pencils have their place but they will never replace a Trusty number two with distinct teeth marks of frustration and contemplation placed there between scattered thoughts of never finishing that simple sonnet or the final edit of a seventy five page rambling that you know will never be heard by anyone except the drunks who try to sleep in the ally when youre up on the roof spouting out the latest outrage at three A M I would never steal a ball point, or the higher class fountain pen your Waterman, Cross, and Bic disposables are safe so the people at Barnes and Noble can relax and stop following me from aisle to aisle My prize is the second hand pencil removed from your desk and never missed until all the other writing utensils are also missing and your only hope is the pencil, now in my possession I steal pencils because I never have found anything else in this world more valuable to steal. Bekif © 1997 bekif is my friend and he is very nice. I didn't ask him first because I think he went to italy. umm... sorry for such a bland letter molly +----------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the reborn Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail "sinister@majordomo.net". To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to "majordomo@majordomo.net". WWW: http://www.majordomo.net/sinister +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "tech-heads and students" +-+ +-+ "the cardie wearing biscuit nibbling belle & sebastian list" +-+ +-+ "jelly-filled danishes" +-+ +----------------------------------------------------------------------+